


A Basket of Eggs

by Raven_Silversea



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 06:02:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16235642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_Silversea/pseuds/Raven_Silversea
Summary: Years after the disastrous Easter, a woman tells her story of that Easter to her family and how she gets a basket of eggs every Easter morning from an "old friend"





	A Basket of Eggs

A woman with white hair rested on the white hospital bed, surrounded by machines and wires that monitored everything she did. Her warm brown eyes were framed by laughter lines and still seemed to sparkle with an inner light as she gazed at the basket filled with hand painted Easter eggs that had been placed there by an old friend.

“Grandma!” The woman’s five grandchildren crowded around her. The younger three cuddled up beside her while the two teenage granddaughters perched on the bed by the women’s knees.

The children were followed by the woman’s two daughters and sons-in-law. “How are you, Mother?” the older daughter asked as the parents sat in the visitor's’ chairs.

“I am well, April. No need to worry about me,” the woman said with a soft smile.

“Grandma, you promised to tell us a story this Easter,” the youngest grandchild, Marcus, said.

The woman laughed. “I did now, didn’t I? But first, did the Easter Bunny visit?”

“He did, Grandma,” the youngest of the three granddaughters, Lillian, said.

April gave the woman an exasperated look. The woman simply smiled at her disapproving daughter.

“Who left you the eggs, Mum?” the younger daughter, Esther, asked.

“An old friend,” the woman said mysteriously. “Now, the story I promised you.” The woman’s family all leaned forward slightly for the woman was well-known for her stories. “Now, this happened when I was about twenty, and everything is true,” the woman began, giving an especially stern look at April. “It begins on Easter Sunday…”

*****

I was driving to the orphanage on the outskirts of town with a box full of wooden eggs that I had painted by hand the night before, like I had when I was a teenager.

I was passing by the annual Easter Egg Hunt, expecting to hear joyful squeals from the children to filter through my open window, but I heard nothing.

I pulled over and stepped out of my car. I walked into the clearing a short ways and watched the children sadly walk around.

“There are no eggs. There’s none anywhere,” said one.

“Come on, let’s go,” said another.

“I don’t understand,” said a third.

Now, I never believed in any kind of guardian that protected or controlled the human race, but even I could realize that picking up the paintbrush and painting eggs for the first time in three years and no eggs that Easter was a bit too strange to be a coincidence. That and the nightmares that I had heard so many children suddenly complain about created an impossible picture that I somehow found myself believing.

I turned back to my car and pulled out the box of eggs. I walked towards the children, who were watching me curiously. I set the box down and looked at the children.

“The Easter Bunny’s been really busy,” I found myself saying. “But he left a box of special eggs on my doorstep this morning for me to give to you. They’re made of wood and everybody gets one.”

The children nodded, and I knelt by the box and opened it. I lifted each egg out, one by one, and handed it to a waiting child who then gently cradled the egg and gushed over the colors and pictures I had painstaking painted.

Once all the eggs were passed out, and the children were heading home, I stood up from my place in the clearing and picked up the now empty box. I was heading back to my car when I swear I heard an Australian man say,

“Thank ya, mate.”

I whirled around and saw nothing. Not a single person was in that clearing besides me.

I shook my head, convinced that I had imagined it. I got back into my car and was about to start the engine when I saw a basket of beautifully painted eggs in the passenger seat. They were covered in various colors, some were striped, others were covered with dots, and some had sparkles on them.

Outside my car, I heard a jingle that sounded like the bells on the carriage horses’ harnesses for Christmas. I don’t know what came over me but, I leaned out my window and shouted, “You’re welcome,” into the sky.

And every year since then, I have always found a basket of hand painted Easter eggs, waiting for me on Easter morn’.

*****

The woman’s family had long gone, and the day was drawing short, but the woman seemed to be waiting for someone. 

Unseen to most in the hospital, a tall blue-grey rabbit with emerald green eyes walked into the woman’s room.

“I was wondering when I would finally meet you,” the woman said with a smile as she looked at the Easter Bunny like he was a beloved child who had been gone far too long.

“Never seemed to be the time to do so, mate,” he said as he sat down in one of the chairs that had been vacated hours earlier. “I never learnt ya name.”

“Adeline,” the woman said. “Adeline Esterling.”

“E. Aster Bunnymund, at your service,” the rabbit said with a grin and a small bow.  
Adeline chuckled. “And to think you are far older than me.”

“Aye. You saved us that day,” Bunnymund said. “You kept those kids believing for a few extra hours before their parents snuffed their belief, but it was enough for us to stop Pitch.”

“He was causing the nightmares, wasn’t he?” Adeline said.

Bunnymund nodded.

“You know, I hadn’t painted eggs for three years before that day,” Adeline said. “Something just told me I had to that night.” Adeline laughed. “And now here I am, on my deathbed, finally meeting my old friend.”

Bunnymund laid a paw on Adeline’s old, wrinkled hand. “I’ll stay with ya.”

“Thank you,” Adeline whispered as her eyes closed. A soft sigh left her, leaving a contented smile on her face.

“Yer welcome.”


End file.
